


The planets bend between us

by smaragdbird



Category: Agora
Genre: Historical, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Hypathia's death Orestes leaves Alexandria and turns to the only friend he has left. However, Orestes has never been good at separating friendship from love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The planets bend between us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bachaboska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachaboska/gifts).



> Originally written but never finished in time for smallfandomfest. It sets after the movie and incorporates a bit of history, mostly about Synesius and his life.

After Hypathia was murdered by the Parabolani, Orestes resigned from his post as imperial prefect of Alexandria. Cyril had won, proven for once and for all that he held the true power in this city, that Orestes had his back to the wall.

Why should he stay and fight a war he was bound to lose? Alexandria was no longer the city Orestes had grown up in: liberal, open, curious.

Cyrene might not be the city it once had been but at least open discussion and new ideas were still encouraged there under the protective hand of the only friend Orestes had left: Synesius.

/////

Orestes pretended not to remember Cyril’s laughing eyes when the ship had left Alexandria. This memory had no place here in Cyrene.

“My friend, it’s good to see you again.” Synesius had come in person to greet him at the quay and Orestes felt relieved to see him. Synesius had agreed eagerly when Orestes had written him a letter, asking if he could stay in Cyrene after what had happened to Hypathia.

Orestes leaned his forehead against Synesius’ as a greeting.

“I’m glad to be here.” He replied honestly.

“I hope you had a pleasant journey.” Orestes said while they were walking through the streets of Cyrene, “We were hit by a storm three days ago and I was concerned for your safety.”

“That storm didn’t reach us.” Orestes answered. He looked around. Cyrene was a half-deserted town, a shadow of its more glorious times.

“It’s not Alexandria.” Synesius said who had noticed Orestes looks.

“That is not a bad thing.” Orestes answered, still seeing Cyril’s triumphant face in his mind.

“I was born here.” Synesius told him, “Except for the time I spent in Alexandria and the three years in Byzantium I’ve been here all my life.”

“Is that why you wanted to become bishop here?” Synesius shook his head.

“I was voted into the office by the people.” He smiled at Orestes. “It’s good that you’re here. Cyrene is not safe and I know you know how to fight.”

“No ulterior motives then in letting me come here.” Orestes joked. He had been aware of the trouble Cyrene had with marauding tribes before he had come here.

“No matter where I am you’re always welcome at my side and in my house.” Synesius replied sincerely.

/////

Synesius’ house was filled with scripts and apparatuses that he had designed together with Hypathia. Orestes had gone to school because it had been expected of him and yes, he had been casually interested, but Synesius had actually been fascinated deeply by science and the questions of what the world was made of. Orestes had never understood how Synesius managed to unite his faith that seemed to explain everything already with his interest in science. 

The governor had been surprised by Orestes’ request to leave Alexandria for Cyrene but pleasantly surprised. With Orestes gone Cyril had no opposition left and the governor expected the situation to become more relaxed and someone with Orestes’ experience would be of value in the skirmishes against tribes that were constantly attacking the province. 

Synesius was widely admired in Cyrene. Until Orestes had arrived it had largely been him who had organised the defences against the tribes much to Orestes’ surprise. Between the closure of the school and Synesius’ return to Alexandria a couple months ago, they hadn’t seen each other once, only writing long letters about science and literature and the places Synesius visited to complete his education: Athens, Constantinople, Jerusalem, places Orestes had never seen and likely never would.

He still had problems to reconcile the boy Synesius had been with the man he was now.

Hypthia had been right when she had said that they never stopped learning and Orestes had much to learn. He and Hypathia had been remnants of a world that no longer existed. Maybe it was time he accepted that and found his place in it.

/////

He settled into his life easily enough. It was less luxurious than his old life, true but there was something satisfying about the hard, bare life of a military commander and trainer. No intrigues, no scheming, no religion, just simple enough rules and their enforcement.

Orestes’ days were filled with the clash of training swords and revising and improving Cyrene’s defences and his nights were occupied by Synesius, discussing strategy and science and literature but never religion and never politics.

It was one of those nights when Orestes slipped up.

A too warm night, a little too much wine and a bit too much honesty between them, it had been an easy mistake to make, at least for Orestes. A reminder of old days and old ways before Synesius’ religion had purged pleasure from life in the name of goodness and righteousness and the salvation from sins.

Leaning against soft pillows in the golden light of the setting sun it was easy to let the heat soak through them as burning kisses and touches that left invisible scorch marks. It was easy to say honest things in the shadows of clothes and pillows and sheets, to hide their warmed cheeks with the bright summer sunlight to blind them.

It had always been Synesius’ religion that had always set them apart the most because Synesius truly believed. For Orestes getting baptised had been a purely political move, an attempt to stay afloat in the new world that in his eyes seemed so much narrower than the old one.

But Synesius believed. He would never break his faith for him.

Orestes had just lost everything again.

/////

Alexandria had been a city that never slept, the streets lit by fires and the sea shone on by the lighthouse. In contrast Cyrene seemed to try and vanish in the darkness, as if it didn’t exist between sunset and sunrise.

He stood on the balcony in Synesius’ house and watched the sun set. It had been curiosity, he told himself, simple curiosity and now that he knew he wouldn’t feel the same yearning when he saw Synesius again.

“Do you really think the Earth is round?” He asked without turning around when he heard steps behind him and the swishing noise Synesius’ robes made on the smooth floor.

“You’d have to be an uneducated barbarian to believe otherwise.” There was a hint of humour in Synesius’ voice. “Why?”

“It means there’s no escape. If I would keep following the sun then eventually I would come back here.”

“Would that be so bad?” Now Synesius was so close that Orestes could feel him. He still didn’t turn to him.

“Wouldn’t it?” The hand that Synesius laid on his back seemed to burn Orestes skin through his clothes.

“Look at it.” Synesius told him in a low, unforgiving voice, the same voice that had made Orestes kneel at his feet. “This is my city. It is not Alexandria. I make the rules here.”

“Your God forbids it, not Cyril or Theophilus or any other bishop.”

“He’s your God as well, remember” The threatening edge in Synesius’ tone weakened Orestes’ knees. 

“Of course.”

“I have broken more rules than you can imagine.” Synesius leaned so close that his lips brushed Orestes’ ear when he whispered. “Pagan.”

Orestes shuddered. Synesius was a dangerous man, dangerous in a way no one could fight him. A long way away from the boy Orestes had so easily shut up with provoking words.

If Synesius would throw him off the balcony now there was nothing Orestes could do to prevent it.

“Tell me, did you ever kneel to God or did you kneel to me?” 

“You, “Orestes answered hoarsely, “you.”

“Then do it again,” Synesius grabbed his arm and pulled him inside with more strength than Orestes would have expected of him. Pushing him against the wall Synesius pressed his lips against Orestes’. Orestes kissed him back, trying to loosen his belt with trembling fingers while Synesius stripped out o his robes with sure hands until they were both naked.

Synesius caressed his cheek with his fingers, a token of affection Orestes enjoyed greedily before he went down on his knees.

He had done this once before, had done it last night with Synesius and there was nothing to be afraid of and yet Orestes trembled when he took Synesius in his mouth. There was a sharp hiss from Synesius but it sounded like pleasure not pain and Orestes didn’t let it distract him, letting memory and instinct guide him as he worked on Synesius. 

His hands slipped into Orestes’ hair, holding onto him when he spilled into Orestes’ mouth, not harshly just a light touch on the back of head, a plea to stay exactly where he was. Orestes obeyed Synesius’ command like he had obeyed every other.

Synesius’ hand slipped from Orestes’ hair to his shoulders, pulling him up to face him. He looked beautiful and righteous and cold and it made Orestes breathless and savage with desire.

Synesius kissed him again, dropping little bites along his jaw and neck.

“I promised you my loyalty,” he whispered into Orestes’ skin who was nearly petrified with desire, “on my knees.” Echoing old words as he followed them.

Orestes’ hands scrambled along the wall to find something to hold on to. He didn’t trust himself not to pull Synesius’ hair if he touched it. Synesius’ hands were strong and unrelenting on his hips when he inadvertently wanted to be closer.

Orestes closed his eyes when desire swept through him, crashing through his body like a powerful wave. The world had narrowed down to Synesius’ hands and Synesius’ mouth on him.

When he finally pushed away, Orestes was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to see him walk away, picking up his clothes as he went. But there were fingers against his skin, stroking his cheek and then Synesius kissed him and Orestes wondered if there was some old, pagan ritual he could perform, some god he could sacrifice to so that Synesius would want to keep him forever.

“My rules, remember?” He smiled at Orestes, breathtakingly beautiful and confident. 

“What about your god?” No pretence here in the privacy between them, no lies. “Don’t they say he can see everything?”

“Don’t you think God can’t distinguish between the truth and whatever delusions those uneducated barbarians follow?”

Orestes didn’t answer and it was clear that Synesius didn’t expect him to instead he began to pick up his clothes.

“Why are you standing there?” Synesius laughed,” I’m starving.” He kissed Orestes again, long and deeply.

Orestes pulled his tunica over his head and followed Synesius downstairs to the kitchen.

And the world, always changing and shaping itself into something different, looked just a bit brighter now.


End file.
